A- Villain

Chapter 1 - Are you frying my rice?

"Ah, Jeremy, come on in." My psychology professor, Dr. Hayes turned around from his place at the chalkboard and motioned for me to come sit in front of his desk.

I would like to point out that my name is not Jeremy, it's Beckett.

But hey, at least he was being friendly.

I placed myself in the black metal chair across from my professor, who had already taken a seat. The man dressed like Mr. Rogers, complete with the red cardigan, slacks, and Converse sneakers. And yes, I am referring to a show that is 50 years old, but it's a classic.

He looked at me skeptically, as if he was trying to figure out why I was here. Even though he is 60 years old and has the strength of a baby kitten, I still felt intimidated by the man in front of me.

I was failing his class, after all. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

"How can I help you, Jeremy?" He smiled from ear to ear, and I hated that I needed to correct him. For all I knew, Jeremy could be a kid in our class that looked like me. Shaggy, dirty blond hair, a tan figure, hazel eyes. Yeah, I bet there are a lot of guys with that description in this class. The only difference is this Jeremy guy was probably acing the class and that's why Dr. Hayes was being so nice.

"Well, for starters, my name is Beckett..." I trailed off as I awkwardly twiddled my thumbs.

He blinked a few times before he laughed off his mistake. "I've got over 100 students in this class, Beckett, you'll have to forgive me."

I nervously chuckled too, feeling the tension ease away. At least, for the moment.

"So what's the problem?" Dr. Hayes asked, opening up the filing drawer on his side of the desk. He pulled out a manilla folder with my name on it.

"Well, frankly, I'm failing your class. I was wondering if I could do something for extra credit." It's highly unlikely that he'll say yes. I scratched the back of my head as I tried to read his expression.

Dr. Hayes squinted at me, and I knew what was coming. 'Uh-oh, not my problem.' Instead, he said nothing. He opened my folder and began to flip through the pages.

Oh. Oh no.

I knew exactly what he was going to find, and how it would impact his answer.

He gave me an apologetic look. "It says here that you're a super, Beckett. You know S.E.A policy doesn't allow supers any outside help."

That was the answer I was afraid of.

Most kids with the super gene get them around puberty. The super gene is determined by your parents. If both of your parents have super powers, you're more likely to have multiple super powers. If one of your parents is a super and the other isn't, you'll get one power. At least, that's my understanding. Neither of my parents were supers, and I didn't get super powers.

That is, until two months ago, on my 20th birthday. Perhaps I'm just a glitch in the universe. I've been cleared every year by the S.E.A, and I've been able to get access to tutoring and any academic assistance that I needed. This year was different. When I got my powers, the system detected it. There was no hiding my abilities. A wristband was slapped on my hand, separating me and the other 'abnormal' people from the crowd. We attend the same classes as everyone else, but we're not allowed any help.

I hate the Superhuman Entry Analysis with a passion.

"Dr. Hayes, please. I need some help. Do you know anyone who could peer tutor me?" I've always struggled in school, but I've never had to beg for tutoring. This is the first time I've been denied. Stupid super powers.